#it’s fine in my room but for the common areas my roommate and i have to agree on stuff

[milk-lover]

Ohhh my gosh my parents are so exhausting. I love them but goddamn i just want to sleep for 100 years. This was day 2 of Family Time we have Brunch in less than 10 hours I am going to Die

[sapphire-writes]

Beyond The Play

college!Art x college!Reader

summary: Tashi needs some time alone with her man, which leaves you without a room for the night.

word count: 3.8k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: alcohol, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex with a condom, light praise, titty sucking, there's only one bed oh no!!

a/n: thanks for all the love on my first Challengers fic! hope you enjoy this one!

“You are so fucked,” Art says, taking another sip of his beer.

“Shut up.”

“He’s right,” Tashi agrees, sighing heavily, glancing at her cards.

You’re all sitting on the floor of your and Tashi’s dorm room, half-empty beer bottles littering the floor between you. You’d been playing poker for the past hour or so, swindling more of Patrick and Art’s money. It’d become a Friday night habit of yours, card games and beer with Patrick and Art. Patrick was always a maybe, he only came to visit his girlfriend a couple times a semester. 

But you, Art, and Tashi were always a solid trio. Tashi and Art had met through tennis of course, and you had met Art through Tashi after rooming with her freshman year of college. You’d become fast friends, and roommates for the next several years. You got along with Patrick well enough, you had to once he and Tashi started dating.

You could tell that had been a sore spot for Art, at least for a while. You’d suspected he’d had a thing for Tashi, and fire and ice hadn’t been the same since. You’d once asked Tashi about it and she’d only shrugged. Even though she was with Patrick for now, you knew Tashi had only one true love. 

Whatever Art felt for Tashi was easily molded into friendship, and the three of you became nearly inseparable. Which was good, even if you may or may not have developed some feelings of your own for the blond tennis player. 

But your friendship was more important. Those feelings could be pushed aside.

“God damn it,” Patrick curses, “I fold.”

Tashi snickers, revealing her cards and Patrick swears once more. 

“I need a smoke,” Patrick says, standing and leaning across Tashi’s bed to the open window.

“Oh no you don’t,” Tashi says, standing at lightning speed, “Outside, we are not getting in trouble for this.”

She grabs Patrick by the shirt collar, dragging him off the bed. He dramatically chokes, but lets her drag him towards the door.

“Art come on,” Patrick insists, reaching for his best friend.

“What? No, I wanna stay,” Art says, sandy hair falling in front of his eyes, “You don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes I do,” Patrick insists, “C’mon five minutes, I swear.”

The boys tumble into the hall and you can hear their voices fading as they make their way outside. You stand from the floor, gathering up some beer bottles, and folding up the empty pizza box.

“Hey, d’you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight?” Tashi asks, brown eyes wide, “It’s Patrick’s last night, and y’know we really haven’t had any alone time.”

Your chest constricts at the thought. You totally get where she’s coming from but, it’s your room too. The thought of sleeping in the common area is less enticing. 

“Or at least just for a couple of hours,” Tashi backtracks, seeing your expression, “Just so we can—”

“Yeah, Tash it’s fine,” you tell her, swallowing your annoyance. Tashi’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind as a roommate, and friend. It’s an inconvenient favor, but nothing crazy. “I’ll get out of your hair for a couple of hours.”

“You’re the best,” she says, kissing your cheek, “Seriously, I owe you one.”

“You sure do,” you tell her, “I expect full payment for this.”

“Do you mean a trip to the movies with slurpees and popcorn?” Tashi asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“With extra butter,” you clarify and point at her, “You’re not cheaping out on me.”

“I’d never,” she insists, feigning seriousness before breaking into a grin. 

You finish helping Tashi clean up and begin your excommunication from your room. Walking down the hallway you bump into Patrick and Art on their way back from Patrick’s smoke break.

“What’re you doing out here? You start smoking?” Art asks as Patrick keeps walking past you, picking up the pace, “Hey where…”

“Party’s over,” you tell him, as Patrick turns the corner, eager to return to Tashi now that she’s alone.

Art frowns, confused.

“But we were—”

“Art,” you cut him off and place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “Party’s over. Unless you’re eager to be a third.”

Art’s cheeks flush and he glances away, forcing out a laugh. Something tugs at your heart watching his half-smile appear. 

“Uh yeah ... .no thanks,” he says and you pat his shoulders before releasing them, “Wait but where are you going to go?”

You shrug, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You can’t just wander around campus, it’s like 2 am,” Art says, beckoning you with his hand, “Come back to my room, at least till they’re done.”

“Really?” you ask, “Cause if you’re tired I can just—”

“Don’t be silly,” Art says, poking your shoulder, “C’mon.”

Art’s room is in a separate building on campus, about a five-minute walk from you and Tashi’s building. Art is lucky enough to have a single; you’d been there a handful of times before class or practice. He keeps his room neat, aside from some clothes scattered on the floor from quick changes before practice. You smile as he hurriedly picks them up, throwing them into a hamper in his closet.

His bed is unmade, navy sheets messy as though he’d just woken up. 

“Sorry bout the mess,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m not judging, you’re cleaner than most guys I’ve met,” you tell him and he laughs. 

Suddenly, it hits you how late it is, sleepiness hitting you like a train as you yawn. This triggers Art’s yawn and the pair of you stand awkwardly in front of each other. 

“Um,” Art says suddenly, “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you agree, stomach sinking, “I can just—”

“You should stay.”

You’re silent at that. You stare at him, as he nervously plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for your reaction. You’re not sure what to say. It’s fine, right? Just a friend, helping out another friend.

A friend whom you have a big fat annoying crush on.

“I mean….it’s just late and you’re tired and who knows when they’ll be done.”

“I don’t have anything with me,” you tell him, voice sounding softer, meeker than you’d like.

“Oh, here I got you,” he says, walking to his dresser. He shuffles through the drawer a moment before revealing a shirt and clean boxers, “Just did laundry today. You can….you can change in the bathroom. I even have an extra toothbrush.”

You roll your eyes at that, taking the clothes from him. 

“Okay,” you agree.

“Bathroom’s right there.”

You nod, quickly making your way across the room and into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly change, finding Art’s spare toothbrush unopened in a goodie bag from the dentist shoved into a spare drawer. You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth, and change into his clothes. The shirt is baggy, with Stanford Men’s Tennis written across the front. It smells like him, like his detergent and his cologne and you can’t help but greedily inhale.

When you exit the bathroom, Art dips in, leaving the door open as he brushes his teeth. You place your clothes in a pile on his desk, awkwardly waiting for him. When he emerges, he’s wearing only his boxers and a gray t-shirt.

“I’ll take the floor,” Art says, his face turning beet red, “You can have the bed.”

“Art no,” you insist, “It’s your room. I’ll take the floor, it’s only fair—”

“Yeah that is not happening,” he says, satisfied smirk on his face, “Tashi’d kill me if she found out I made you sleep on the floor.”

“We could…..” you wet your lips, struggling to get the words out, “We could share the bed?”

Art watches you, his eyes wide. You watch his Adam’s apple bobs as he contemplates your question. Suddenly your pulse quickens, and embarrassment floods your body, and your face flushes. You turn away from him, scooting onto the bed.

“I mean only—”

“—if you’re comfortable,” Art finishes and you shut your mouth. You both giggle at the overlapping sentences.

“Yeah, I’m comfortable, Art,” you tell him, patting the space beside you, “Come on.”

Art moves onto the bed and you push closer to the wall. He’s so close when he lies down beside you, stretching his arm above your head. You’ve grown accustomed to the moonlit room and at this distance, you can almost count each eyelash that frames his blue eyes. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, minty breath wafting over your face, making your head spin.

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage as the heat of his body warms you under the covers.

He’s silent then and you lay there for a moment, watching each other, listening to your shared breathing. Art chuckles then.

“What?”

“It’s just…” he trails off, “Nothing, it’s silly.”

“What is it?”

“You’re the first girl I’ve shared a bed with,” he admits, shyly glancing away from your gaze.

“Art Donaldson,” your tone is teasing, “I find that rather hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” he insists, brows furrowing together, “I mean….I’m not saying—wait” he wets his lips nervously, “I’m not a virgin—”

Your eyebrows raise, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. No, you did not doubt that. 

“Not that anything’s wrong with that, I just—wait and not to imply—”

“Art!” you cut him off, reaching forward and pressing your fingers against his lips, “I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.”

“M’not,” he mumbles, lips moving against your fingers.

“I’m fucking with you, Donaldson,” you whisper, taking your hand back, “I know you’re a gentleman.”

“Thank Christ,” he says with an exaggerated exhale causing you to giggle once more. He watches you, a smile on his face, eyes flickering to your lips.

Your face heats up as he wets his lips. Suddenly, nervousness flutters in your belly, and your heart flutters in your chest.

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning away from him to face the wall.

You wait for his response, hoping he’s not disappointed. Disappointed about what, you’re not sure. 

“Goodnight,” he says softly and you close your eyes.

You wake up early. Birds are chirping outside the window, golden sunlight is beginning to bleed into the room, and Art’s chest is smushed firmly against your back. His arm is curled around your middle, hand splayed under your shirt and on your tummy, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s so warm, his presence so comforting, you just want to close your eyes and melt back into him. 

Art groans in his sleep, moving his hips slightly and your eyes snap open.

Oh, Art.

He’s pressed firmly against your backside, rock-hard, hips unconsciously grinding against you. Your mouth falls open slightly feeling him against you, the hard outline of his cock bullying against your ass. Art groans again, hand on your stomach pushing you closer to him.

A breathy sigh escapes you and your head falls back against him slightly. 

“Art,” you breathe, answered with another groan, this one edging on a whimper. His hips gyrate, cock pressing against you with need, “Oh God…”

You swallow, breathing becoming more shallow. Your pussy clenches, and you can feel the growing wetness in the boxers Art had lent you, thighs pressing together desperate to relieve some of the pressure.

“Art wake up!” 

Art wakes with a start, head pulled from your shoulder. You can’t see him, but you feel him tense, the warmth of his body ripped from yours as he lurches backward, right off the edge of the bed. He falls with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You sit up turning toward him. 

“Fuck!” he says, scrambling to sit and hide his erection, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” His face is red and he grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap, “God–fuck, I’m so sorry I was asleep—” He keeps stuttering, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Art.”

“It’s just biological you know, just morning wood, I would never do anything without your explicit consent–enthusiastic consent!”

“Art…”

“And I would never want to ruin anything between us, ever–”

“Art!”

His head snaps toward you then, eyes meeting yours. His mouth hangs open, eyes watery as he looks up at you. He looks so sad, so embarrassed, and disappointed. And something else as well. Worried, perhaps. 

“Get back up here,” you tell him.

Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed.

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Art scrambles to rejoin you on the bed, lying beside you. He faces you just as he did last night, sandy hair falling across his forehead. You smile softly at his disheveled appearance and his flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop talking,” you tell him, reaching forward and brushing some hair from his face. You let your hand trail around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “You have my consent.”

Art’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, pulling yourself closer. His hand drifts to your hip, anchoring himself to it. “Explicit, enthusiastic, all yours.”

The last word has barely left your lips before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, he kisses you with innocent eagerness, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. You lift your leg, hitching it around his thigh, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a moan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

Something deep inside your belly warms at his admission. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, kissing you again, “Since freshman year.”

“Why didn’t you…..oh fuck..” your question trails off as Art mouths your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin.

“Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he mumbles, kissing your collarbone. 

You hum at his answer, tilting your head to give him better access. His hand moves from your hip bone, up under your shirt—his shirt. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, mouth returning to your lips.

“Yes,” you tell him, “Please touch me.”

You can feel his smile against your lips as he does what you ask, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. Pushing against him, his hand cups your breast, squeezing lightly. You pull away from his lips briefly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the end of the bed. Art’s eyes devour you and he kisses you desperately as he continues to play with your tits. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck until he reaches the top of your chest. 

Art’s lips move across the tops of your breasts, as though he’s struggling with choosing which one to lavish with attention. Luckily for you, he decides rather quickly and latches his mouth to your right nipple, thumb, and forefinger, tweaking the opposite. Your back arches as he gently bites down, sucking the hardened peak harshly before releasing it with a pop. 

“Art.”

He simply moans, ignoring your cries as he brings his mouth to your opposite nipple, repeating his previous action. Pleasure winds a current in your lower belly, your thighs clench as he repeats his little torture, alternating back and forth between your breasts. You grab his hair, tugging him not too gently until he glances up at you, cheeks red, lips glossy and puckered. 

He’s too pretty.

You pull him back to your lips, kissing him feverishly while trying to rid yourself of the clothing you have left. Art feels you squirming and assists, hands moving the boxers down your legs until you’re able to kick them off at your ankles. Your hands move to him next, eager to even the playing field. 

You tear his shirt over his head revealing his toned stomach from countless hours on the court. Your mouth waters at the sight before Art is on you once more, lips capturing yours in another heated kiss. His hand returns to your hip, curling against it before he reaches further, squeezing your ass.

You smile against his mouth as he squeezes again. 

“You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs, returning your smile.

His hand grazes down the back of your thigh before venturing to the front where your legs meet. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to your hot center. 

“Can I?” he asks, so softly, you nearly drown out his question with your heavy breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs. 

Art slides a curious finger between your wet folds, gently circling your clit. Your mouth falls open as he continues.

“You’re so wet,” he remarks, dipping his finger lower, and finding your entrance. 

He lets his middle finger sink into you, met with little resistance. Your walls greedily accept him as he curls his finger upwards, beginning to pump it in and out. Stars explode behind your eyes and you moan, clutching onto his shoulder.

Art smirks, eyes aglow at the pleasured noises you emit.

“That feel good?”

“Yes—fuck,” you squeak as he presses another finger inside of you, “Oh god.”

“Yeah?” 

Art crooks his fingers against your velvety walls, pressing against that special spot inside of you that has your head lolling against him, moans spilling from your lips. His thumb joins, caressing your sensitive clit in time with the strokes of his fingers. 

“Feels so good,” you moan, “I’m so close.”

“Yeah? You're gonna come for me?” he asks, kissing your neck. Your fingers tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging harshly, your orgasm building deep in your belly, “Come on baby, come on my fingers, I wanna feel this pretty pussy come.”

His words send you over the edge and your pussy clenches around his digits as you come, thighs shaking from the intensity as warmth floods through you.

“That was so hot,” Art says, kissing you, still buried to the knuckles inside you, “You’re so hot. Let me fuck you, please.”

You hum against his lips as he carefully removes his fingers from your warmth. He pulls away, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. You watch him awestruck as he moans, eyes closing at the taste of you.

“Get inside me,” you tell him, “Right now.”

Art doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and pulling his boxers off as you lay on your back. Your eyes drift down his stomach to his cock. It’s pretty, just like the rest of him. Long, girthy, a neat tuft of dark sandy colored hair at the base. The tip flushed red and weeping as he strokes himself. 

“Condom?” you ask, and he nods, walking to his desk and rummaging through the first drawer. 

He comes up successful, ripping the wrapper with his teeth and rolling the condom on his length before crawling on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he lines himself up, rubbing the tip along your soaked slit. 

“Art, please put it in,” you whine, hips lifting.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he says, shaking his head.

Your responding giggle is short-lived as he slowly sinks inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh god,” you whimper, as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You okay?”

“More than okay,” you answer, cupping his cheek. He mirrors your action and you smile, a sudden burst of tenderness exploding in your chest, tears welling in your eyes. 

Art rotates his hips, pulling back and sinking back into your inviting warmth. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, “I’ve dreamt of this for years.”

“Me too,” you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist, “God, Art, I’ve wanted this forever.”

This spurs him on, his thrusts becoming quicker, more eager at your confession. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimper as he pounds into you, “Wanted this for so long—used to talk to….to Tashi about it—”

Art moves his hand along your side, reaching your thigh and hooking your leg over his shoulder.

“What’d you tell her?”

The new angle sends him deeper, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against that spongy section of your walls that has your mouth dropping open in pleasure.

“Wanted you,” you manage as Art holds one of your hands above your head against the pillows, “Wanted this so bad.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Art says, his breath catching, “Fuck—oh god you’re so pretty like this, fuck.”

“Art!” you cry his name as your second orgasm builds, sneaking up on you as he slows his pace, “Why’d you—”

“Wanna savor this,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. His thrusts have slowed, hips moving with leisure. 

The pressure in your belly continues to build as he smirks down at you. Tennis has done wonders to his stamina; he fucks you like he could keep this pace for hours, barely breaking a sweat. You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he kisses your neck, your hamstring burning deliciously with the stretch. 

“Please come for me,” he murmurs, right next to your ear, “I’ve got to feel that sweet little pussy come around my cock, please.”

You do as you’re told, spurred on by Art whispering praises and encouragement in your ear and you fall apart, clenching around his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. You feel his hips stutter, cock twitching inside your warmth as he follows your release with his own. Art’s lips find yours then, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air. 

You stay like that for several minutes, his cock softening as you kiss one another, before he slowly pulls out. He takes a moment to take off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash before he rejoins you in bed.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you across his chest. 

You lie with your cheek pressed against his pec, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He strokes your arm with his fingers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, face buried in your hair, “About wanting me? This?”

“Mhmm,” you answer, putting all your cards on the table, “I may have harbored a small crush on you.”

Art picks up your hand measuring it against his own before lacing your fingers together.

“I wish I knew that earlier,” he admits, still holding your hand, “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

You glance up at him between your lashes and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says with a smile.

“And here I thought Patrick was the only one who owned your heart,” you tease, causing him to playfully bite your wrist, “Hey!”

“Not the only one,” he admits, rolling you over onto your back, “I’m glad you got kicked out of your room last night.”

You lean up, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Me too.”

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[anneonomus]

trying to decorate my first non student apartment and learning in real time that i have bad taste xbsksbsksba

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for watching a movie with my boyfriend in the apartment after my roommate went through a bad breakup? (🧌 so I can find it later)

My roommate (B, 19f) and I (19f) have been at each others throats for as long as we have lived together, but recently it got worse when her boyfriend (22m), M, was revealed to be not only a cheater but a predator who takes photos of women at his place of work. Before this incident, B and I had not spoken for month and she was overtly hostile - going as far as inviting over her boyfriend to spend the night when she knew I could not stand him.

When they broke up, she apologized for her behavior and asked for my friendship back. For as long as B and M have been together I have not liked him. On the night of my birthday she allowed him to spend the night without asking me, as they were both too drunk to drive when she brought up the question (we had previously discussed and agreed that all overnight guests should be cleared with whoever was home). i couldnt say no due to their state of intoxication. they proceeded to loudly have sex that could be heard in all the apartment. I asked he not spend the night after that, but was fine with day visits. She constantly asked, so I agreed on the condition that communal spaces weren’t violated.

Recently she and him broke up, after she found out that he was cheating in a variety of ways and taking photos of women and of her while he was working and they first met (they were coworkers, she was underage at the time). She knew he was a sex addict, but had not thought it would lead to him cheating. She was devastated, understandably, and banned men from the apartment for a while and I obliged her for a few weeks. I now have a boyfriend (19 m) who comes over to watch movies and hang out, never violating common areas or spending the night if she is over. She recently got back together with him and has kept the banning of all men from the apartment yet spends nights at Ms place. If my boyfriend and I are watching a movie in the common room, she will fake cry in the kitchen or slam doors for the entirety of the film before going to her exes house or asking us to leave the apartment. If my boyfriend and I are sitting in the kitchen, she will slam cabinets and fake cry. It’s endless.

She recently left for a trip without informing me and when I saw she was back in the state I gave her a heads up about the fact that my boyfriend was going to stay over, as she had not told me to expect her back. She accused me of violating her boundaries and when I mentioned the past violation of mine she told me that she was currently going through a tough time in her life. I’ve asked her and she said there was nothing against my boyfriend specifically it’s all men. She moves out in a few months but at this point she’s stealing things, moving my stuff and going into my room when I’m not home.

Am I the asshole for continuing to have him over and not giving in to her behavior and demands?

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - III

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

You ran your finger over the small bandage you pressed to your cheek in the dorm’s bathroom mirror earlier that morning as the elevator climbed to your office floor.  The elevator was crowded and you hadn’t been able to escape the sideways glances and whispered questions since you rolled out of bed. 

It was impossible to ignore the speculation around you about how you worked late, how Lord Harbinger Dottore returned as you requested, that no one could ever get him out of his lab that easily.  Another rumor circulated that it wasn’t your office he came to, but your dorm room, and several others claimed to have seen him leaving in the early hours.  The implications were enough to make your skin crawl and you had to literally bite your tongue to keep from screaming.  A reaction would only verify such lies, nevermind ruin everything you worked so hard to build thus far when it came to a persona no one second-guessed.

A dorm without a roommate was coveted, earned, and the privacy afforded was as precious as your own office.  

Attention was the last thing you wanted, let alone needed, but if you played this right, everything would smooth itself out again.

You settled in for the morning, following your routine, only venturing out to the common areas for coffee and to show your face.  No hiding, you reminded yourself.  Anything out of the ordinary (anything more out of the ordinary, rather) was liable to be considered suspicious.  Would it have been easier to decline the offer entirely, you wondered.  As far as you were concerned, the only thing that changed was your potential marital status and availability of sensitive information.

As you walked into your office, you noticed an envelope in the middle of your stationary blotter, light blue with the Tsaritsa’s unmistakable seal.

Lord Dottore had said he would speak with the Archon and notify her.  You hadn’t anticipated such a move so quickly.  In fact, you’d expected a proper audience precisely because of his wording.

You broke the seal gently and opened the envelope, eyes scanning looping letters that never once broke their flow.  The Tsaritsa passed on her congratulations and that She was unaware someone was capable of thawing her doctor’s heart.  A formal audience was scheduled for that afternoon; so much for a lunch break.  

The letter made your hands tremble more than you expected.  Even though you weren’t an allogene, you knew no other Archon, no other authority.  As a native Snezhnayan, you walked a fine line between respect and knowing the people suffered greatly because of the Tsaritsa’s focus on a larger picture.  

Before you had a chance to jot down the time on your calendar, your boss rapped his knuckles on your open door.  A jolt ran through you, your thoughts snapping, and you wished you hadn’t reacted to his interruption.  The last thing you wanted Regrator to know was that your head wasn’t entirely present.

Lord Pantalone wore a smile as sickening as the one he used to tell your parents in no uncertain terms that there would be no negotiations.  It took everything in your to not crumble the Tsaritsa’s note.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Pantalone remarked, his eyes drifting to your hands.  “I see Her Most Noble Majesty has already sent hers.”

“I have an audience on my lunch break.  I’ll stay late if it runs over, sir.”

He dragged his eyes away from your hands to meet your eyes, looking almost jovial, well-meaning.

“It would be bad form to have you make up time when the Tsaritsa wishes to see you over such an important matter.  Lord Dottore is loyal as long as one knows how to hold his leash.  No doubt the Tsaritsa can give you some pointers.  Whatever is decided, please be sure to forward all bills to my office directly; I will take care of expenses.”

He sounded so kind.  As if this was actually important to you.  And it was, you supposed.  It meant access to more information, more resources, better pay in exchange for both of those to advance plans you would never see, and therefore more money to get your parents through the winter.

Did he know you agreed to Dottore’s proposal? You wondered as you dragged your nail across the fold in the Tsaritsa’s card, flattening the seam.  

The two men were close, or at least as close as two colleagues in such an environment could be.  No doubt, Lord Pantalone, and perhaps the rest of the Harbingers as well, knew of your new status.

His eyes lingered on your hands again but he wasn’t curious about the paper; you hadn’t exactly hidden the words from him despite playing with the paper.  Lord Pantalone turned to leave and then paused, as if contemplating on something, before he looked at you over his shoulder.

“You may want to discuss the matter of your empty finger, my dear, if you are, in fact, to marry above your station.  How ridiculous that someone so smart needs to be reminded of what’s proper.”

You pulled your hands off of the top of your desk and placed them in your lap, the paper still pressed between your fingers.  Heat flared across your face.  

Such an obvious hole in this plan already, noticed by the very man who put you in this position to begin with.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽��☾∘∙⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

When you arrived for your audience, you were instead taken away from the throne room and towards a sitting room in a solarium that looked as though everything was made out of crystal.  The floor glistened and the windows let in so much light that you found yourself tugging at your collar, the room a little warmer than the rest of the Palace.  The Tsaritsa was perched on a chair, a tea set and several offerings of finger foods on a table beside her, one seat left vacant, likely intended for you.

You bowed low at the waist and pressed a hand over your heart, only rising when you were commanded to.

She was ethereal, your Archon.  Pale hair that turned the same blue as freshly fallen snow in the rising dawn, piercing eyes as cold as ice; she wore a military uniform but she carried herself with such grace and poise that she may as well have been wearing gossamer.  Across her left breast, a red sash with a blue crystal star, denoting her station along with a small kokoshnik on her head.

Her smile was warm, kind, two things you never saw cross Lord Pantalone’s face, as she offered you tea and asked for you to help yourself.  You reminded yourself not to get too comfortable.  She was still your leader, still the one you were, in the end, betraying.  

“I am quite surprised that anyone was capable of catching Lord Dottore’s attention in such a fashion,” the Tsaritsa began.  “When he came to speak with me last night, I couldn’t help but wonder about the kind of person who could incite such fascination for my Doctor.”

You tried to keep your face in its usual impassive expression and to keep your eyebrows from furling too tight and your fingers loose enough to look natural.  

It was easy to survive Lord Pantalone’s scrutiny.

The Tsaritsa was a different story.

“What did he tell you of me, moya Tsaritsa?  Only good things, I hope,” you replied, tone even and polite.  

“That you are one of the only rational minds in your entire department, always looking out for his best interest in ways that, even if he challenged them, still made sense in the grand scheme.  He is no stranger to pushing boundaries to obtain results but those that push him too much in return often end up…useless.  Putting a Harbinger’s interest before your own is a selfless act that many are unfit to carry out but it is one you pride yourself on, from my understanding.”

“It would be a waste of time to do anything else, moya tsaritsa.  I would do the same regardless of who I was assigned to in my department.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.  Dottore is passionately rational, even cold, at most times.  Quite a marked difference than when he first arrived at my feet.  That someone managed to hold his attention long enough for marriage is quite a feat.  You have my thanks for bringing a spark of life back into him.”

You hadn’t done anything, you wanted to protest.  The Second was merely driven by the idea of having unlimited funding and a strange new experiment no one ever humored him with before.  

Instead, you took another bite of a sandwich half, the crusts perfectly trimmed.  Quietly, your stomach protested, longing for more.  You’d skipped breakfast, after all, and your budget was thin until your next paycheck.  Nothing new, admittedly.

At least you wouldn’t have to pretend to be watching your figure.

“Lord Dottore has his moments,” you said after a beat.  “I am only glad to be a source of inspiration for him.”

Approval glimmered across the Tsaritsa’s face and you felt your heart pull, as if it was snagged on something in your chest.  You’d passed her test.  But what would she think of you in a year, in ten years, whenever you gave up the farce Dottore was playing at?

If, or perhaps when, someone finally stepped in and demanded she take better care of her people?

You took a sip of your tea, still warm and sweet, in an attempt to hide your mouth for a moment.  There was a reason you were an information agent and not closer to the action, not an outright spy in the traditional, social sense.  

“Whatever date you decide will be a public holiday in order for the rest of the city to attend.  It is not every day that my Harbingers commit themselves to another outside of their duties.  As the Second’s Wife, you are due the respect of the people.”

“Thank you for your generosity and foresight, moya Tsaritsa.”

You remembered a time when your mother would smile like that, eyes crinkled and mouth curved in genuine happiness.  How long had it been since you’d seen her do anything but cry?

And you would likely never see such an expression, not even at your own wedding.  Not that you ever dreamed about it, or even thought you would marry.  But the one marriage your parents would be alive for (even if they couldn’t witness it), and it would be…

Something stung your eyes and before you could wipe them, a cold finger reached out and brushed away the tear that threatened to sear your cheek.  There could be no cracks in your facade, you reminded yourself, no room for such silly thoughts.  Even if this wasn’t about love, per se, this was meant to be joyous.  Tears now meant foundational problems for others, including an Archon, to exploit.  And you didn’t need anyone nosing around.

Bad enough you had to end up with Lord Dottore as a co-conspirator.  Couldn’t you have had such an agreement with someone far less perceptive?

“It is normal to be apprehensive,” the Tsaritsa said softly.  “In this world, we are given so little.  Happiness is fleeting, as is life itself.  It is why we must take what we can and enjoy it while it lasts.  Your Harbinger knows this better than anyone and that he is willing to partner with you in spite of that…should speak volumes of his dedication to you.”

Dedication, not love.

At least the God of Love saw the arrangement for what it was, you thought tersely.

“You will do well, my dear.  That you feel that fear tells me that you are very willing to succeed at whatever cost you must pay.  The two of you will do quite well together.”

The hand retreated and moved to the teapot between you, topping off both matching ups.

“Now, the two of you have a lot to discuss, I am certain.  But tell me, have you given any thought to your vision of the day?”

The way she shifted from one topic to another without so much as batting an eye was unparalleled.  You should have expected nothing less from the Cryo Archon, as cold as Her element.  She held no love for her people, not anymore, although your skin still felt as though it was kissed by a winter wind.

You stayed until the tea was tepid and the platters were all but empty; so much for a brief lunch break.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Briefly, you wondered if you were going mad.

Surely not.

But then again, you’d agreed to marry one of the highest ranking Harbingers, bested only by The Captain.

You had to at least be a bit touched to consider passing through these doors.  No one, not even those that worked within its confines, wanted to cross this threshold.  Haeresys was not a place for the faint of heart, not even for the desperate and downtrodden.  More often than not, it was a one-way-trip to a vivisection table (and that was if you were lucky to not survive the first round of experiments Dottore thought might prove useful).

You knew enough from the budget summaries.

But you couldn’t always rely on Lord Dottore to come to you.  It was not only rude but it showed a lack of commitment on your part.  Your schedule was far more forgiving than that of a Harbinger’s, for one, not to mention it would not look very convincing if you were not occasionally seen visiting your fiance in return.  

Besides, maybe you would glean something useful from the trip, you reasoned as you pushed one side of the imposing double doors open.  

The stories of the place were accurate enough; dark corners, stone walls, questionable stains every so often (although most of them were the distinct reddish brown of dried blood).  It was late in the evening, well past dinner time, and the remaining assistants kept their distance.  At most, they bowed and directed you to the last location they knew their boss was located.  More than once, you were directed in a circle.  In their defense, you understood how, at first glance, one might mistake Omega for Dottore himself.

Eventually, you came across the Segment you knew, the one who laughed too easily with a bright pink bowtie.

“You’re not here for an audit, are you?  The last unfortunate sod who undertook that task blew his head right off when he saw the archival room.”

He grinned viciously and you felt your skin crawl.  You never could get used to that smile, all teeth and no heart, as sharp as the scalpel in his hand.  Every time you had to deal with him made you more thankful for the older Segments, for Lord Dottore himself.

“I’m here to see Lord Dottore.  I have matters to discuss with only him.”

“But I am—oh, you’re the one he chose, aren’t you?”

You swore his smile grew wider, although it was hard to tell under his three-quarters-mask.  Were Lord Dottore’s eyes as red as the ones before you?  Were they even red at all?

“Perceptive of you, sir.”

When he realized he wasn’t going to get a reaction out of you, his shoulders deflated slightly and his smile disappeared.  You swore he muttered, “Buzzkill,” under his breath.

Louder, he said, “This way,” and gestured for you to follow him with a glove you only just realized from stained red with fresh blood.

The Segment brought you to a set of double doors and pounded a fist against the wood, the corner of his mouth set into a frown.  When Lord Dottore’s voice came from inside, muffled and seemingly just as annoyed as the man before you, the Segment opened the door and pushed you inside.  You stumbled but caught yourself quickly, finding your balance just as a masked head shot up to assess the situation.

“Your fiance, Prime,” the Segment announced before he slammed the door shut.

Lord Dottore watched you for a moment, his head turned in your direction before he resumed whatever he was working on.  

“You could have sent a courier.  There is little point in you trekking all the way down here,” he said by way of greeting.

“It’s nice to see you too, sir.”

The sound of a pen scratching against paper filled the room and you gazed around, eyes falling on the wall of stock shelves across from you, jars upon jars of bits and organs, haphazard stacks of books, and artifacts that Lord Pantalone was likely looking for.  Cluttered wasn’t the word that came to mind but you could see how some might call it such.  It was clean, free of dust, everything labeled and organized.  

“What brings you down here, Accountant?  I did not take you for a woman foolish enough to enter the wolf’s maw willingly.”

An answer you wish you had.  A strange notion crept up on you after your audience with the Tsaritsa, one you couldn’t put into words, and struggled even harder to put into quantifiable values.  You had run the numbers in your head, the risks and the benefits, and were unable to come to any other conclusion than the one before you.  Not that you would go back on your word; you weren’t that hungry for death.  

Rather, you were likely not going to live a long, prosperous life.  Most did not in Snezhnaya, not without stepping on a few heads and becoming ruthless in the process.  Throw in the gamble you made long enough to smuggle information out of the Fatui and you were destined to die all but three hundred feet from where you were born.

As such, this wedding was likely the only one you were going to have.

And it was fake.

Worthless.

You tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter and that you might as well derive what joy you could from such circumstances.  But the Tsaritsa had done nothing but scramble your thoughts earlier in the afternoon and facing your own mortality as both a Fatuus and as a hidden agent was not doing your mind any good.

“I met with the Tsaritsa this afternoon,” you said, tilting your head as you examined a series of books.  

You remembered the budget several years ago that mentioned these books and the name stuck in your head ever since.  The spines were cracked.

“Presumably it went well, otherwise you would not be here interrupting my work,” Dottore replied, his words tight.  “I explicitly told you I will leave most of the planning to you.  No doubt she has expectations on the whole affair.”

“Whatever date we decide, she intends to make it a public holiday.”

You heard a sigh and then the click of a pen cap sliding home and turned your head to watch him fling the pen onto the surface of his desk.  

“I do not care for the pomp and circus that the Tsaritsa demands, hence why I do not wish to be part of the process.  But for the sake of appearances, everything must look genuine and therefore require compliance on both of our parts.  Pick whatever date you wish.  I would prefer to simply get this over with.”

Lord Dottore brought a hand to his jaw and rubbed the joint as he silently moved his mouth for a moment.  His shoulders were straight, perhaps too straight, and he looked as if he spent the better part of the day (and even more than) toiling away at whatever he was working on.

“You are usually not this quiet when you have something to say, Accountant.  My patience is thin.  Don’t make me mark your other cheek.”

You preferred to not have to go into work with another bandage on your face.  Not that anyone would be surprised, you supposed.

Business terms, you reminded yourself.  If you broke it down into smaller parts that felt more like a negotiation, perhaps it would be easier to get the words out.  The last thing you wanted to do was admit that you would have liked to be doing this for more than just the whim of another’s circumstances, than the benefits it would bring you.

You felt eyes burning through you and you glanced out of the corner of your eye to see Dottore staring at you, or so you presumed, his hand still massaging his jaw.

“I would like to at least put in some kind of effort, as this is likely the only wedding I’m ever going to have; Fatuus don’t exactly have a long lifespan, even those in the Palace.  But I do not wish to misrepresent you,” you said at last, returning your gaze to the shelf in front of you.  “Nor do you a disservice in any way.”

It took everything in you not to laugh at your choice of words, at the consideration you were taking for a Fatui Harbinger.  Bad enough your family was indebted to Northland Bank, worse still to turn to the Fatui for employment, never without the reminder of what little stood between you and your family’s destitution.

“You’re intimately familiar with my finances, Accountant.  Just don’t short other budgets.”

“Lord Regrator offered to cover everything himself,” you replied.

“Of course he did.”

“And I need an engagement ring if you’re so intent on making this facade seem real.  People know, after all.  There are expectations when people look at me now.”

You hadn’t meant for it to come out as selfish as it did.  Bad enough you admitted your thoughts so openly to a man who would, no doubt, seek to exploit whatever weakness sat beneath them.

“I take it Regrator said something about that too,” Dottore muttered before shifting his jaw side to side and then shutting it.

You could only nod, fingers hovering over the wooden shelf, perched without anywhere else to really put them.  Lord Dottore didn’t say anything else, instead slowly circling around his desk and crossing the distance towards you.  It wasn’t until he was in front of you and he had taken your chin in his hand that you became acutely aware of his presence.  Once again, the mask covering his eyes hovered dangerously close to your own nose.  You were convinced he might poke your eye out one day and perhaps it might not be an accident.

He was warmer than you expected and although the chill of the entire laboratory never left, you felt yourself instinctively drawn to the heat he provided.  

“I asked you because your eye for detail has been beneficial over the years.  I need someone who can think at the level required of my rank, to consider all details and angles and outcomes.  Do as you wish, paint the image the Tsaritsa and the others need to see.  I will act accordingly but work with a Segment on everything else.  I do not have the time to waste on such trivialities.”

Then why agree to get married at all? You wanted to ask.  Is the headache of all of this truly worth unlimited funding?

It must have seemed that way, at least for him.

Dottore let go of your face and reached towards the shelf nearest you, pulling a book free.  He considered it for a moment before he looked back towards you, mouth set in a thin line.

“If there was nothing else, Accountant?”

You knew a dismissal when you heard one.  You stepped away from the shelf, from him, and bowed for a moment.

“No, sir.  Goodnight.”

Without another word, you made your way to the door, your eyes catching on the form of his back before you left his study.  The door was heavier than you expected and it shut with a resounding and final rumble and click of the latch sliding home.

You couldn’t wait for this to be done and over with.

[infinitegest]

Freshman Dorm (II)

Horny Plot Device University returns!!

“Oh, fuck!”

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, OH…”

…

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Oh, god, yes…”

Quark looked at their phone. “Sorry guys, it’s Noah. Poor little guy probably got lost again.”

The crew waved Quark off, saying to give Noah their best and worst wishes.

“Hey, nerd, what’s up?”

“Hey, uh… can you come over to my dorm? We—I need some help.”

“Uh. I’m with the crew right now, can I talk you through… whatever it is? Also, who’s ‘we’?”

“it’s… um… kind of urgent?”

“What’s wrong?”

“So, uh…”

“You bottled someone,” Quark asked, aiding the scene transition, “in the first week of the semester?”

“You keep saying ‘bottled,’ I don’t know what the hell that means.”

“That was a missed opportunity for a Princess Bride reference right there.”

“Bite me, I’m freaking out. What do we do? What do you mean bottled?”

The two of them were standing in the men’s residence halls, just outside Noah’s dorm. Noah was sitting on the floor, barefoot, shaking, wearing a hastily assembled outfit of a Hawaiian shirt and sweatpants.

“Context, you idiot, it means exactly what you just did.”

“There’s SLANG for this? That’s fucked up!”

“Not as much as you’d think. You have much to learn, my dumb-of-ass sibling. It’s not common, but it’s not exactly rare either. Little freshies get to campus, feel the difference, and get… overenthusiastic. Don’t know when to stop. Like you two just did, apparently. But it usually takes a few weeks, you guys might have broken the record…”

“What do we DO, though? My roommate gets back from work in an hour!”

Quark looked at their anxious little brother. Noah was a good kid, he just didn’t always—what’s a nice way to put this—think, very much. Not with his head.

They took his head in their hands, and said, “Listen to me. Things are going to be fine. You’re not in trouble, at most this is going to be an inconvenience. And, I hope, a learning experience. I’ll go in and talk to her, you go and get some water for both her and you. Stay hydrated, kids.”

Noah took a deep breath, nodded, and pulled away from their hands, heading to the common area.

Quark stepped up to the door of Noah’s room, fine-tuning their “everything is gonna be okay” face, and pushed it open.

Dear god, they did NOT miss these rooms. Just enough space for two beds, two tiny desks, closets, and a mini-fridge, and not much else. Not enough space for a third person, and definitely not enough for a third person who was currently much larger than they had been when they first entered the room.

Much, much larger.

In the bed, Quark saw a sprawled pair of pale, bare legs. They also saw the face of a slender girl, no more than twenty. The girl had a light spray of freckles and wavy ginger hair, pretty, though currently screwed up in obvious distress– tears streaked her cheeks, and she was making quiet, pleading “shh, shh” sounds. Between the legs and the face (along with a slim torso wearing what looked to be one of Noah’s Iron Man shirts) was a bump.

Actually, to call it a bump would be an absolutely absurd understatement. It was easily the size of a yoga ball, perhaps larger, and was very visibly roiling with activity. The girl was stroking the bulging mass, desperately trying to soothe the squirming horde of children Noah had planted inside her.

Quark cautiously, almost reverently, approached. “Hi! You must be Caitlin?”

The girl jumped, as much as she could with what looked to be nearly ninety pounds-worth of babies inside her, drawn out of her distressed reverie. “Oh! H- hi. You must be Noah’s…?”

“Yeah, I’m Quark. Nice to meet you. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

The girl almost laughed. “How I’m feeling? I feel like, fucking, a hundred bucks. Amazing. Fantastic.”

“I know this is kind of scary, but it’s gonna be okay. Trust me.”

Caitlin chuckled darkly, and Quark noticed a slight blush coming to her face. “We were… having a really nice time, you know? It was really good. And I started growing, and we– we kept going, and I grew some more, and it felt good, so we kept going, and…”

“You realized how much you were growing.”

Caitlin nodded, tears welling in her eyes again. “And it was a scary, but it stopped, so we thought ‘Oh, it’s fine,’ but then I realized I couldn’t get up and probably wouldn’t fit through the door, and Noah started freaking out, and I started freaking out, and now I’m stuck under this stupid giant belly and the babies won’t—stop–kicking—!” Caitlin started sobbing, grabbing at her massive stomach, trying to quiet her restless brood.

“Hey, hey,” Quark said, grabbing one of Caitlin’s hands. “I was just telling Noah—this isn’t as crazy as it feels right now. Lots of freshmen don’t know when to stop, and then realize they’re stuck in someone else’s dorm, or their own dorm. Some really dumb cases get stuck in storage closets.” They paused, hoping to at least get a smile from her with that. They didn’t. 

They plunged ahead. “The thing is, it’s okay. Worst case scenario, you end up staying here for a week. You can go to classes digitally, your parents don’t need to find out…”

Caitlin’s sobs eased up a little bit. Good, Quark thought. Keep talking, distract her.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

Caitlin gulped, closing her eyes and dropping her head back against the wall again. “Sure, I guess.”

“The same thing happened to me as a freshman.”

Caitlin’s head snapped to attention. “What?”

“Noah doesn’t know, and I don’t plan on telling him. But yeah, a month into the term, I hooked up with a friend, and we went a little crazy, and I got bottled. Twelve babies, using my belly as a battle royale arena. I was stuck for about a day and a half before they could get me out.”

There it was– a quiet snort, and the slightest hint of a grin from Caitlin. Quark smiled back. “But listen, you’re lucky: I’d guess you’ve only got, say, ten in there, maybe? With a bit of elbow grease (and literal grease), I bet we can get you back to your dorm, or at least to a friend with more space.”

There was a knock at the door, and Noah stepped in with two bottles of water. “Hey…”

Caitlin smiled, weakly. “Hey.”

“Hey, nerd. Stop gawking, yes she’s beautiful, but you’ve got a job to do. Run over to the campus store, they rent out wheelchairs, and see if you can borrow lube or butter from someone along the way. Hop to it, Jeeves,” Quark said, grabbing one of the water bottles and handing it to Caitlin.

Noah saluted, took another lingering glance at Caitlin and her monument of a belly, and closed the door behind him. Then he popped back in. “Can I change my clothes, first?”

“You’re the one who owns a Hawaiian shirt in the first place, dipshit, walking across campus in that is your punishment. In a few months you’re going to be showing up to all your classes in pajamas anyway.”

“Ugh.” Exit Noah.

It was quiet for a moment. Caitlin shifted uncomfortably, pinned down by her crowded belly. “Thanks for telling me your story.”

“Sure. You want to know the crazy part?”

“I’m very nervous to hear the crazy part, but sure?”

“You know how I mentioned the few really dumb cases that get stuck in storage closets?” Quark slowly lifted a finger, pointing at themself.

Caitlin stared for a moment, and then laughed, genuinely laughed… which startled her babies and sent a visible spasm of movement rippling across her massive midriff. 

“HA! … Ohhh… god.”

“Oof, I’m sorry honey. Is it bad?”

“No, no,” she said, “It was just really stressing me out when we were panicking, I guess. It’s fine now, I think.” Caitlin stared at her belly, mesmerized by the moving bodies within her. She slowly pressed deep into one side, and grunted at the chain reaction of kicks and punches. She shivered. “Oh.”

“Yeah?”

“It actually feels really, uhm.” The big-bellied freshman really blushed this time, her pale face turning pink as she slowly flexed her legs to press her bare thighs against the churning sphere. “It feels really. Er.”

“Ah, yeah. Been there, my dude, fuckin’ been there. Do you need a moment?”

“... yes,” Caitlin whispered, her hands sliding around her belly.

“Gotcha. I’ll be just outside.”

Quark left, glancing back just as the door shut. They caught a brief glimpse of Caitlin’s face tilted back, eyes closed, mouth wide in ecstasy, hands moving lower and lower along the great pale curve...

They turned and almost immediately ran into Noah. “Hey, where’s the wheelchair?”

“I got halfway to the store before I realized I forgot my wallet. Is she okay?”

“You can borrow my card. And yeah, I think she’ll be fine. Don’t go in there.”

“What, why not?”

“Because you, young one, must learn control.”

[mixelation]

do you like perfume? what's your favorite scent?

i don't! perfume tends to give me sensory issues. not so much when it's already on a person, but i used to have to ask my college roommate to put hers on in our dorm common area because being in the same room as a recent puff of perfume would Mess Me Up

for scents (soaps, shampoo, candles, etc), i tend to like floral scents. i've gotten to visit the southwest US a few times in the past few years, and i found out i really like cactus flower scented things. i don't tend to like fruity scents, including citrus, or most things that smell like food (even if i like the smell of the food itself), including "spice" scents like cinnamon or cloves. ~generic clean~ scents like "rain" or "fresh cotton" are usually fine. i end up with a lot of coconut scented things because it'll be the least objectionable option of a bunch of things i don't like lol. as you might have gathered, i'm picky

i recently started a bar of sandalwood soap, because i like the smell of sandalwood, but it turns out i do not like it on me

[sunnyie-eve]

4 | Happy Christmas

Series: Little Things

Paring: Mattheo Riddle x OFC Potter!

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Might be a few mistakes

| MASTERLIST |

"Who do you think will win todays Quidditch match?" Enzo asks as we eat breakfast. 

"Slytherin. They've been winning for years." Draco says like it's so obvious. 

"Yeah, but Gryffindor has my brother now as their seeker." I shrug my shoulders. 

"You doubting your house?" Flint slams his hands on the table beside me startling me. 

"I was ju-," 

He cuts me off, "Just betraying your house? You're already a blood traitor being a half blood and caring for non purebloods. You shouldn't be in this house. You're just a-," He gets cut off. 

"Mr. Flint." Professor Snaps walks up to us. 

"Professor." He stands up straight and leaves the great hall. Snape nods his head at me then goes over to Harry. 

"You okay?" Willow asks me. 

"Yeah." I nod my head and stay quite eating my food.

Later when it was time for the match I don't join the group so I could sit by myself. "You know how hard it was to fine you?" Mattheo sits next to me. 

"I wanted to be alone." I sigh. 

"I know but we gotta stick together." He nudges me. 

"Why do you say that?" I ask him as the game starts. 

"You're my friend. The first friend I made so you are more special than the others. Plus we keep some things a secret." He says as we watch the match. 

"We don't know that much about each other." I laugh. 

"But I feel like you won't judge me for my background. Who my parents are." I look at him looking down. 

"You still haven't told me who they are." I remind him. 

"I can't say it. I made a promise with Dumbledore coming in. You don't know how hard it was to convince him to let me come here." He chuckles. 

"They were that bad?" He nods his head. "Well, I don't care because you aren't like them. You are your own self. And I like who Mattheo Riddle is." I make him smile. I look back up and see Harry jerking around on his broom. "Harry!" I jump up. "What's going on with his broom stick?" I ask worried. 

"Someone is jinxing his broom." Mattheo tells me as Slytherin's start to laugh at him as he hands on dangling. 

After sometime Harry gets back in making me let out a sigh of relief. "He's got the snitch!" They announce making the other houses cheer except Slytherin. 

"Cheer on the inside." Mattheo whispers to me making me laugh. 

"Oh, I am." He shakes his head at me.

-

I'm no time it was Christmas break and most students were going home to spend it with their families. "How come your aren't going home?" I ask Mattheo as we sit in the great hall playing card games. 

"Our deal with Dumbledore says I have to stay here the whole time. Why aren't you going home?" He asks putting down his card. 

"Our aunt and uncle hate us. Oh, I win." I stick my tongue out at him. 

"Oh, Hazel... You're gonna help Harry look for information on Nicholas Flamel, right?" Hermione walks up to us. 

"We've looked a hundred times." I whine. 

"You are just like Ron." She rolls her eyes. "As I just told them... Not in the restricted section. Happy Christmas to the both of you." She leaves us. 

"I think you've had a bad influence on her." Mattheo makes me laugh. 

"Maybe. See told you me being here was going to mess me up." I joke with him.

"Hazel, come here." I look back at Harry playing chess. 

"Come on." I motion for Mattheo to follow me to Harry and Ron. 

"She tell you all what she just told us?" Harry asks. 

"Yeah, keep looking but try the restricted area." I lean against the table. 

"I told Hazel she's had a bad influence in her." Mattheo tells them. 

"I said the same thing about Harry and I." Ron laughs. 

"We'll keep me updated. I'm gonna go to my dorm. See you guys tomorrow." I pat the top of their heads leaving. 

When we get to our dorm we each go change into something else to be lazy in, in the common room. "I just realized neither of us have any roommates while they're away." Mattheo laughs as we plop onto the sofa. "What's one of your biggest secret people don't know about you?" Mattheo asks as we stare at the fire. "Our secret." He puts out a pinky so I take it.

"Harry and I can telepathy talk to each other." I say making him look at me. 

"So you both are telepathic?" He tilts his head. 

"Harry can't don't any of it with anyone else, but I can if I try to work on it. I don't though because I read that it can be troubled and I can hurt my head." I explain to him. 

"That's cool." 

I nod my head, "What's yours?" I lean closer to him to nudge him. 

"I'm telling you this because I trust you... My mother is Bellatrix Lestrange." I was taken back because I read about her when I was catching up on what happened with the dark wizards. 

"She's... I'm...wow..." I was speechless then smile a little. "I appreciate how you really trust me to tell that."

He just looks at me, "I just feel really comfortable with you." 

I lean over giving him a hug, "I feel really comfortable with you too, Mattheo." 

We both lay on the sofa and just talk till we both pass out on it. "Hazel, we should go to bed." I hear him while he shakes me. 

"Yeah." I rub my eyes walking to my room. 

"Goodnight." We tell each other going to bed in our rooms. It was nice to have Mattheo as a friend. Out of all the guys I felt most comfortable with him because I feel like he wouldn't judge me.

///

Mattheo gets dressed going to the common room but sees Hazel was still in bed. He walks over to the tree and finds his gift and opens it. Here's exactly what you wanted. Happy. Christmas. The note says and he smiles to himself going to wake Hazel up. "Hazel, wake up." He pokes her. "Get up. I'm all alone." The poking turns into shaking. 

"Five more minutes." She groans. 

"Fine." He sighs setting one of the parts of his gift on her dresser before leaving. 

Hazel groans not being able to fall back into a good sleeping stage so she sits up rubbing her eyes. She looks around the empty room then her eyes land on the gift on her dresser. Picking it up she opens it to see a white rope bracelet that said pinky promise. She smiles to herself put it on her left wrist and gets up going to the common room.

"What happened to five more minutes?" Mattheo laughs at her. 

"I couldn't fall back asleep so I had to get up. Thank you so much for ruining my sleep." She roll her eyes jumping onto the sofa next to him. "Also thank you for the gift. And how the hell did you get up to the girls dorm?" She puts out her arm showing it off. 

"I'm not telling you trick and you're welcome." He puts out his showing her a matching one but black. "And it does this." He puts his hand closer to hers and shows the little dangly part connects with his because it was a magnet. "Happy Christmas, Hazel." They put their arms down. 

"Happy Christmas, Mattheo. I should go see Harry. Do you wanna come with me?" She asks getting up. 

"Nah, go see your brother." She nods her head leaving the Slytherin common room going up to the Gryffindor's. 

"Can you tell Harry Potter to come out?" She asks the painting. Soon the painting opens and Harry pulls her in. "I don't think we are allowed to go into other common rooms." She tells Harry. 

"I don't care, you're my sister. Oh and Ron's mom put your sweater in with mine." Harry hands her a homemade sweater.

"It's weird getting presents from others." She tell them. 

"I know. Also look at this." Harry uses a cloak then disappears. 

"An invisibility cloak." Her jaw drops. 

"It didn't say who it was from. Just that it was dads. I'm gonna use it to go into the restricted area in the library at night." Harry lets her know. 

"Hopefully you find something. I should get back to Mattheo because we are the only ones in the Slytherin house here. Happy Christmas." She hugs Harry then waves to Ron leaving. 

When she get backs to Mattheo they kinda just lounge around bored for the whole day together. "We do it all over again tomorrow?" Mattheo jokes at they head to their rooms. 

"Duhh. Night, Matty." She stops looking back at him. 

"Night, Hazie." He smiles back.

While Hazel was sleeping in her room alone, Harry sneaks in walking her up with Ron. "What the hell?" She sits up. 

"You gotta see this. Trust me." He pulls his sister out of her bed. 

"Hurry up so we can go back to sleep." Ron groans tired. 

Harry get all three of them under the cloak and takes the to the room with the mirror. "Come look. It's our parents." Harry rushes over to the mirror. 

"I only see us." Ron tell him. 

"Look in properly. Go on, stand there." Harry lets Ron go first but Ron just sees himself as the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Head Boy, holding up the Quidditch Cup. 

"Harry, do you think this mirror shows the future?" Ron asks him. 

"How can it? Both my parents are dead. Hazel see if you can see them." Harry places her in front of it.

She sighs looking into the mirror but doesn't see her parents just an older version of her and Mattheo holding each other tight. "I don't see them." She stares at the mirror confused. 

"What do you see?" Ron asks. 

"Umm... I'm just hugging someone." She tells them. "I'm going back to bed. If I get caught, I get caught." She leaves them thinking about looking up the mirror tomorrow in the library.  

The next morning while she was looking through books Mattheo shows up. "Thought I'd find you here." He takes a seat. 

"Found it!" She reads the passage. 

"The Mirror of Erised." She reads out loud. 

"Erised?" Mattheo repeats. 

"Desire backwards. The mirror shows the deepest, most desperate desire of your heart." Hazel nods her head.

"Did you come across this mirror?" He asks her. 

"Harry took me and Ron to it last night because he saw our parents. I didn't see them." She closes the book. 

"What did you see?" He asks curious. 

"Us older hugging. I think it could be because all I've ever wanted was for someone who wasn't Harry to care and be there for me." I sigh getting up putting up the book. 

"I do care about you so... I guess you want a friend who will be there for a long time." He follows her. 

"I guess I do." She sighs with her back facing him.

///

"I had you looking in the wrong section. How could I be so stupid?" Hermione slams a book on the table and it lands on Harry's hand making me giggle at his pain. "I checked it out weeks ago for a bit of light reading." Hermione sits down. 

"This is light?" Ron asks her so she gives him a look. 

"You barely like reading the paper. And that is very light." I give him a look. 

"You watch me in the mornings?" He raises an eyebrow. 

"When I'm bored I look around the whole room. Continue Hermione." I tell her so she does. 

She reads to us that he made the stone and that's what what Fluffy is guarding. "You going to meet us outside to go to Hagrid at night?" Harry asks me. 

"Yeah, I'll sneak out. See you later." I get up leaving the table.

"Boo!" Theo jumps out startling me. 

"You're so funny." I roll my eyes walking again and this time Draco pops out. 

"I hate you guys." I walk again and Mattheo pops out. I just sigh glaring at him. "Is Enzo next?" I ask and he comes out upset. "Next time you think about scaring me don't do it all in one go. Do it throughout the day. Be smart not dumb." I explain to them. 

"I tried telling them." Pansy shakes her head then leaves with her group of girls. 

"You find anything out?" Mattheo asks me. 

"Yeah." I keep it short since the guys were walking behind us.

When it was time for bed I make sure to quietly sneak out to go meet the three to go to Hagrid's. At Hagrid's he tries to shoo us away but we tell him we know about the Scorcer's stone so he lets us in. Harry explains that he thinks Snape is still after the stone, so Hagrid said Snape is one of the teacher protecting it. 

"Hagrid is that an dragon egg?" I ask as he set it in the table. 

"Yes... I won it off a stranger I met down at the pub." He tells us as the egg starts to shake and crack. 

"That's a Norwegian Ridgeback." Ron says telling us his brother works with them. 

"Who's that?" We all turn to window to see Draco. 

"Malfoy." Harry and I say together. 

"I swear he was asleep" I groan as we all walk back walking into McGonagall.

"Good evening." She gives us a look while Draco and Mattheo step out. I glare at him wondering why would he snitch on me.

[reginrokkr]

@daybreakrising asked: ✔ (offers out any of my muses that suit you!)

Do I know your muse(s):  yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse

Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other

Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship

Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protecter - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other 

I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other

Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests!

For Cyno

Dain has reasons to linger in Sumeru, at least in what concerns what must be done with the Aranara and the Pari in two completely different areas of the nation. As someone who is serious in his job as the head of the Mahamatra and if their paths happen to cross and their interests to align, I think they would have room to do something good together for the betterment of Sumeru. Of course, it will be highly dependant on what his drive is at the time that will be what dictates if their interests align!

For Razor

The main point I consider would have them meet is Wolvendom, as Razor did state he saw wolves of another pack that isn't autochthonous to Mondstadt and I suspect it has to do with Rifthounds. If Dain sees them and connects their presence there with the Abyss Order still scheming something in Mondstadt, he would have a reason to investigate and also check indirectly if Andrius is faring fine without going to see him directly.

For Menogias

I think that the most appropriate and accurate moment for them to meet would be during the Cataclysm that happens in the Chasm, either when Menogias already succumbed to its terrors or a bit earlier than that. Dain is known to have helped solve the crisis at least in one nation (Sumeru) and I personally headcanon that he did the same in other nations both willingly and involuntarily, so participating in the battle against the monsters of the Abyss would do the trick.

[loverlylight]

So, I can't remember the last time I brought this up, but my older brother and I have been roommates for almost seven years now. We both were ready to move out of our parent's house but even back then there's basically no way to afford to live somewhere on your own without making a ton of money, and we got along and knew we did fine living together and so on. Anyway, he's been hoping to get his own place and has been saving up for a while and the hope is to get going on that within the next few months, and along with that the hope is that my younger sister would sort-of do a reverse time share thing where she'd spend part of the time at our parent's house and part at the apartment so I could afford to not have to move yet.

And like... okay, this was definitely not something that my brother intended or whatever, but I always felt more like I'm renting a room in the apartment rather than the common space also being mine. Not just because he'd pay the bills and I'd just pay him my share (which, to be fair, is less than a 50/50 split, but even though I now have a full-time job making more than minimum wage he still makes like double what I do so we're roughly paying the same proportion of our income), but, like, he has his computer desk set up in the living room. Pre-pandemic I would at least spend days when I was off and he wasn't in the living room, once his job went fully remote all of the daytime during the week he was in the living room working, so I didn't want to disturb him so when I had time off if I wasn't on a walk or something I just stayed in my room so I'd stay out of his way.

And just... I dunno. Obviously I'll want it to be a space my little sister feels comfortable in too, but like... I feel like I can maybe use this chance to make the place I live feel more like mine, you know? I could hang up the artwork my parents didn't want anymore but I did, I could put my CDs and books and DVDs on the shelving in the main living area, I could store things where I'd like to store them, buy a frame for my D&D poster and move it off my closet door and onto a wall, get a bookshelf/display case so I could actually put the things I've gathered over the years somewhere visible instead of keeping them in my closet and rotating them out once a year. I just feel like, okay, unfortunately yes, I do have to stay alive. With that being the case, I should at least try to make that life one I would enjoy, as far as it's within my ability.

[rebelangelwings]

Diaz Sister

TW for sexual harassment / assault (unconsensual touching) and intense situation but everything is OK because Athena to the rescue!

"Ugh! I don't know what I'm doing with my life!" Allie huffed, throwing her head into her hands at Eddie's dinner table.

"Kid, no twenty-something knows what they want to do with their life. Hell, most thirty or forty-somethings don't know what they want to be when they grow up," Eddie supplied whilst putting together a lunch for Christopher.

Said child chose that moment to breeze into the room, "I'm going to be a theoretical physicist when I grow up."

"Great," Allie sighed, throwing her hands up in the air in faux exasperation.

"How do you even know what that is?" Eddie asked, but before the question was even out of his mouth, he realised the answer.

"Buck." All three Diaz' spoke in unison. Christopher giggled.

"Have you forgotten how Buck traveled around the world for a career before he ended up back in the US and discovered firefighting?"

Allie looked up suspiciously at her brother, "are you suggesting I leave the country and go traveling?"

"No. Definitely not. I'm just saying you are not the only student in the world to have an existential crisis," Eddie explains softly. "And look at Buck now - we've seen how passionate he is about being a firefighter. You'll find your thing too Allie, just chill out in the meantime."

"Okay, but that doesn't help me pick where I want to do my work placement next semester."

"Do you want me to speak to Bobby's wife, Athena? She's a field sergeant for LAPD. She might know of some placement opportunities within the public affairs remit?"

Allie looked up at Eddie cautiously, "Eddie, you know my reservations about LAPD."

"But if your research is in power and political change, wouldn't that be a great opportunity? Trust me, Athena is one of the best." Eddie countered.

"Sure. Thank you, Eddie. Sorry for putting my existential crisis on you."

That evening, Allie sat in the common area of her shared flat, working her way through her pasta and scrolling through her phone when the front door slammed open. Her roommate and friend since the Halloween incident, Erica, rushed inside, locking the door behind her. When she turned to see Allie on the sofa, she jumped out of her skin.

"Hey Erica, everything okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Just those creepy guys were cat-calling again. Not even at me, another girl. I'm just being stupid." Erica explained, clearly flustered.

"No…that's not stupid at all. Which guys?"

"The frat house guys. Apparently it's a thing. Part of fraternity initiation or something that's a byproduct of toxic masculinity." Erica seemed more like herself now, calming in the company of Allie.

"I can go with you to report it to campus security if you like?" Allie offered.

"Nah, I appreciate it, but noone else has complained and everyone knows it happens so I guess it's just a thing that happens."

Allie couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach at those words.

It wasn't long before Allie experienced first hand what Erica had been describing; taking a longer route home across campus to enjoy the end of Autumn, Allie was oblivious to the booming laughter and jeering coming from one of the larger houses. Her headphones weaved soft autumnal music into her ears instead.

Which is why she was so startled when a group of four boys around her age overtook her and blocked her path.

She jumped, her hands going to her chest where her heart beat wildly. Allie removed the earpieces from her ears, immediately wishing she hadn't.

"Hey baby, how you doing?"

"Fine thanks, but I'm in a hurry to meet my brother," Allie tried to end the (barely) conversation swiftly.

"Come on Sweetheart, don't be like that. Can I get your number if you're in such a rush? Instagram? I bet you've got some hot photos on there," another one of the boys forming the blockade persisted.

"No thank you. I'm really not interested. I'm going now." Allie said more forcefully, walking in the opposite direction, back the way she came.

Thankfully, they did not continue to block her way or follow her, but did shout unsavory comments to her back and she quickend her pace home.

Upon arriving home, Allie had a panic attack in the shower.

The next incident occurred just days later when Allie and Erica walked together towards a coffee shop, not realising they were again going to pass by the frat house.

Allie had tuned in more in this last week of lectures to the Student gossip and hubbub. What she had learnt from this was a rumour that the fraternity were holding some kind of competition. One that made Allie’s blood boil. Apparently, if rumours were to be believed, there was some kind of points system based on the pledge's interactions with female students. For example, a point could be awarded if they cat-called, more points for getting a phone number, even more points for getting a date, etc. Allie didn't want to think about whether the list of tasks extended to other interactions.

Unfortunately for Allie and Erica, they found out pretty quickly that the point system was extensive.

As Allie and Erica noticed the group of pledges, they shared a look and sped up their walk to the coffee shop. Undeterred, the group repeated their formation of blocking the path of the women, asking for their numbers, asking for dates, and even making lewd comments that had the two friends shrinking.

Allie was feeling increasingly threatened when Erica jumped forward with a scream. Allie quickly deduced that one of the boys had gone behind and grabbed Erica. I that moment, Allie felt some protective instinct rise up, pulling her body straight as if to give more height and broadening her shoulders. She whirled on the boy in question shoving with all her might at his chest and roaring "BACK THE FUCK OFF BEFORE I MAKE YOU BACK THE FUCK OFF!"

His eyes widened, almost definitely in surprise rather than actual fear, and the boy let them pass by, laughter and celebration being heard behind them.

They arrived at the coffee shop, and Allie bought Erica a sugary smoothie in an effort to calm her shock from the experience. Once she had finished half of the cup, Allie began leading her back onto campus (in a different route) and to the campus security office.

"Excuse me," Allie started, getting the attention of the male security officer behind the desk, "I need to report some anti-social and illegal behaviour that has been happening on campus."

"Okay, what would you like to report?" He picked up a pen.

"Sexual harassment. There are a group of pledges at a frat house that have been harassing multiple female students and have even resorted to grabbing us."

"Alright…" he sounded much more cautious now. "Do you have any proof of this behaviour taking place?"

"No. Only that myself and my friend have witnessed it, and I'm sure numerous other girls on campus have experienced it. There's apparently some competition that encouraged the harassment."

"Look, I'm really sorry that you're upset, but we can't do anything based on rumours. The boys are probably just being boys and trying to flirt."

"So, what? We should take it as a compliment that they're sexually harassing us?" Allie rebutted.

The man seemed to become irritated now, matching Allie’s increasingly combative tone, "No, that's not what I said. You're twisting my words now. I'm just trying to help you and I don't appreciate you taking this tone."

"Don't worry. I'll take my tone elsewhere." Allie turned her back, walking her and Erica out of the door.

That night, Allie waited on her own, perched on a bench on the campus grounds. Her phone was held firmly in one hand, and the other was resting inside her satchel, resting on the can of pepper spray, a gift from Eddie last Christmas. She thought it was a joke gift at the time but now she was so grateful for her overprotective big brother.

Allie knew that on a Friday night like tonight, most student would be gearing up for a night of drinking and parties, meaning lots of foot-traffic through this area of campus. Which also meant that the pledges would soon be preying on vulnerable women. Allie kept vigil.

As suspected, small clusters of girls began walking passed Allie, being drawn by the rows of clubs and bars down the street. She could see the front yard of the frat house. She watched as they plotted to prey on the most vulnerable, only calling out lewd comments to the larger groups. But once there was a girl on her own, much like Allie had been yesterday, with music playing in her headphones, the pledges exited the yard and made their way to the girl.

Allie tried to time it correctly, not appearing from her shadowed spot until she could see the distress written across the girl's shoulders and hear it in her voice as she made excuses as to why she couldn't come to their party tonight. Her phone was still tight in one hand, the other still poised on the can.

"I'm flattered, but no thank you. I actually have a boyfriend, I'm going to meet him right now and he'll come looking for me if I'm late so-" Allie could here the girl struggling to say the right thing that would get her home safely.

Allie unlocked her phone quickly, dialing 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" The operator said in a kind and confident voice.

"I need to report a case of sexual harassment in progress. I think it might escalate." Allie supplied quickly, and gave her location. She was advised strongly by the operator that she should not intervene if the situation escalated and put herself in danger, she was to wait for the police to arrive and let them handle the situation.

But Allie couldn't stand by and do nothing when she started to see where their hands were going. Instead, she charged forward, shouting something she wouldn't remember later, startling most of the young men. One of them squared up to her, she thought it might have been the one that grabbed Erica yesterday but it was dark. Before she could pull the pepper spray from her bag, an authoritative voice called out "LAPD, put your hands where I can see them!"

Allie turned to see a woman in uniform walking towards them. She carried authority in her posture, the way walked, the angle of her eyebrows. Her hair was dark, shiny, and perfectly placed. Her hands rested on her hips as she directed her questioning to the pledges. Allie was in awe of this woman. She was not what she pictured when she thought of LAPD at all.

Was Allie is in awe or was she in a bit of shock? The night's events were starting to catch up with her and the realisation that something very serious could have happened to her or this stranger or both of them. What was she doing? The conversation that the officer had been having with the frat boys had been a background buzz in Allie’s head. She jumped at a slight pressure on her hand, and looking down, realised the unknown girl was holding her hand and looking at her with grateful eyes. Allie gently squeezed the hand.

Allie was gathering from the way the conversation was headed that no actions were going to be taken tonight, something that the officer seemed to feel guilty about. That was until Allie informed the officer that this was an ongoing issue, that she had experienced harassment just this week, witnessed and assault, and that she suspected there was some kind of sick competition.

"I think we might need to have a little chat down the station don't you think?" The officer directed the question to the frat boys and radioed for some extra squad cars for transport.

At that, one of the frat boys who had previously been putting on the charm for the officer, pointed a finger into Allie’s face and said "That is slander you stupid bitch. Your friend wanted it! You should be grateful we even wanted to talk to you!"

Half an hour later, all the boys had been loaded into squad cars to be transported to the station to make statements. Allie and the girl that she now knew was called Olive, would also have to go in to make statements.

"Thank you, Officer," Allie spoke up for the first time in half an hour.

"Sergeant. Sergeant Grant. You're welcome," She corrected Allie.

"Sorry, Sergeant." Sergeant Grant smiled warmly at the two girls. She saw so much horror in her job, it's always a great feeling when you can get to a scene before the horror occurs. To be preventative rather than reactionary.

The girls made their statements at the station with an officer, finally finishing around midnight. "Is there anyone you need us to call or do you need a ride home?" Sergeant Grant asked Allie and Olive as she spotted them in the corridor.

"I'm going to call my brother. Hopefully he can come get me," Allie supplied, already clicking on Eddie’s contact.

The phone rung for four seconds before Eddie picked up the phone, "Hey, what's up? You're not drunk again are you?" Eddie asked half joking.

"No, no alcohol has been consumed tonight. But could you come pick me up please?"

"From where?" Eddie asked suspiciously.

"The police station?"

[pettyrevenge-base]

Horrible roommate with insane boyfriend who won’t leave? Byeeeeeee!

Managed to find an awesome house to rent after college with two other friends. One was my good buddy from undergrad, let’s call him Ben. The other was someone who I’d gotten to know through another close friend, and let’s call her Crystal. Everything is all fine, and actually great for quite some time. Lived our own lives, but had a great time hanging out together too. The perfect roommate situation.

That is, until Crystal started dating Pablo. Pablo was the ultimate deadbeat with a Napoleon complex. Just a little over a month into our lease, Pablo got evicted from his placed, and Crystal asked if he could stay for a short period while he looked for a new place. Being understanding and empathetic, and trusting Crystal (we had no reason not to), we said sure as long as it’s temporary. Big mistake.

Pablo lost his job. Pablo had been dishonorably discharged from the military. Pablo was a(n) (unsuccessful) gambler. Pablo was a drunk (it was New Orleans, so it’s not like any of us had a leg to stand on here), but he was a dangerous drunk. He would verbally abuse Crystal, waking up the whole household in the middle of the night with fights. He killed her pet fish by running it under scalding hot water. He would hurl racial slurs at my then-boyfriend. He broke Ben’s Wii. On numerous occasions, he left the front door wide open (anyone who knows New Orleans knows this is a bad move, even in the safest areas). He left an empty pot on the stove with the burner on, and I came home to a house full of smoke. He was really putting everyone’s lives in danger.

Ben and I decided to have a house meeting to discuss our concerns with her, and, knowing that sometimes emotions can flair, we came with a written agenda so as to just stick to the facts. Yet Crystal defended him, and offered no solution to when he would be leaving and finding his own place (spoiler: he never would).

[Really rubbing salt in the wound, Pablo had gambled much of their money and Crystal was having trouble making rent one month. She asked if she could borrow it and pay me back next paycheck. Again, being a trusting empath, and feeling like we had no other choice, I did. I was furious to find out that the two of them had left for a long weekend at a casino resort in Mississippi before having paid me back.]

Well, now for the petty revenge:

I had been working two full-time jobs. I saved like crazy, and it was 2008 and housing prices had dipped. I decided to buy my own home. Ben knew all about this (so did my landlady), and was planning to be my roommate in the new house, but I never mentioned a single word to Crystal. I found a great place, made an offer, and closed a little thereafter.

It just so happened that the day I closed on the house, when we were already planning to move and just get the hell out of dodge, Crystal and Pablo took one of their famous casino getaways. We got around 15-20 of our close friends, one of whom had an enormous truck and a giant flatbed (of course someone did, it was Louisiana). Many hands make light work, and within a few short hours the entire house other than their room was cleared out. (Ohhhh, did I mention?: All the furniture, all the kitchen stuff, everything in the common rooms belonged to either me or Ben).

Crystal and Pablo returned home at the end of a full day of gambling, only to find a completely empty house except for their room. We told them we had switched the utilities (that were under my name) to the new house, and we had informed the landlady, and paid out our share of the remainder of the lease. The looks on their faces was priceless. We left and never saw them again, halleloo.

TL;DR - Roommate’s psycho boyfriend moved in, never left, went bananas. Other roommate and I got a huge group of friends to help move all our stuff to a new house without telling them, in just a few hours time while they were away. They returned to a completely empty house except for their stuff. Priceless looks on their faces as we left for the last time.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not letting my roommate have friends over?

So I (23nb) and my roommate (21nb) have lived together for two years now. We share a lot of the same interests, but this year they have gotten really into a game that I am not into. They go to clubs and outings all the time now, and have found a friend group with this game. This friend group is younger, still living in dorms on the university campus I go to and my roommate works at now that they are graduated.

This semester, I have had early classes basically every day, and don't want to mess up my sleep schedule too bad on the weekends, so that when I have to get up at 6 am, it's not as miserable. So I like going to bed early. Like, I am in my room, ready for bed, at 10 pm.

My roommate has asked multiple times if they can bring their friends over for a movie night, usually it is already like 9:30 pm when they ask. Every time, I ask how late there will be people here, as I am not super comfortable going to sleep with strangers in my apartment, since I have never met these people. They always respond that it will be late, definitely after midnight. This happens during the week as well as weekends.

I also know, from these past years, how loud my roommate can be when they really get into something with friends, whether in person or online. So even if I wasn't uncomfortable with people being in my apartment late while I am sleeping, I don't want to be awoken by them yelling at like 2 am. It has happened before.

It is hard for this friend group to find places to hang out, apparently, (even though there are plenty of on-campus places with tvs and couches, where people don't study, often in dorm common areas) and that is why my roommate always asks if this group can come over.

Also, after these hangouts that do happen elsewhere, my roommate doesn't sleep in the apartment, and I am afraid this will go the other way, with this group just deciding it is fine to stay on my couch because it is too late to go home. I already have to be semi-quiet in the mornings so I don't wake up my roommate through their door, I have given up making smoothies in the morning because of this. If people are on my couch I wouldn't know what to do.

Tldr; my roommate asks to invite people over late, even though I am not comfortable with strangers in my apartment while I am sleeping and I know my roommate gets loud with friends, and I have early morning classes, so I always say no. AITA?

[oc-aita]

AITA for being upset that we got another roommate in our apartment?

I (23 NB) live with my partner, we'll call M(24F), and her twin sister

A few months ago M said she was going to a rave at an abandoned facility, but she was gone for 3 months.

Since the facility is underground, signal isnt the best, but we still talked. It seemed like she was having a lot of fun.

I never want to stop her from being her own person, we agreed to an open relationship, its never been an issue.

When she came back, she ended up bringing a person well call V(NB 23?) along with, as a roommate.

I know very little about V, they seem Fine, just incredibly stoic. I try to support M, shes an amazing judge of character, and most of her friends are good people.

We had a spare room in our apartment, but Im mostly upset at how suddenly someone just shows up and how that spare room used to be a common work area.

I tried to bring it up to M, but she told me that because V didn't have any home to speak of, we should at least offer them a place to rest. Im hesitant, but thats because of V being a near stranger to me.

So AITA for being upset that my partner brought a new roommate?

[ephemeral-winter]

sorry i just desperately need to bitch about my roommates for a little bit y’all don’t have to read this

they all take video calls in common areas without headphones

they never put anything in the dishwasher

they then proceed to NOT handwash their dishes for days on end

one of them is constantly leaving cabinets open

this one also has an amazing habit of putting things in the oven on full blast and then LEAVING THE APARTMENT

when THEY do put stuff in the dishwasher, there is no recognition that some of our pots, pans, utensils, and mugs are not, actually, dishwasher safe

they leave water all over the sink counters

THEY NEVER PICK THEIR HAIR OUT OF THE SHOWER DRAIN

there have been boxes headed for the recycling in the hallway for... 4 months now? 

one of them is literally a world class flute player but on the rare occasions she practices at home, she does so starting no earlier than 11:47pm

one of them will make tea and then take the wet teabag out and leave it in a bowl on the kitchen table for DAYS

could not begin to explain how much rotting food is our fridge

one of them is a take your shoes off when entering the house person (fine) but instead of storing her shoes in her room like the rest of us she leaves them by the front door, which means they are constantly blocking the opening of the front door

they all seem to recognize that our apartment can get disgusting at times but never do anything about it and when i get fed up and go on a 3 hour long cleaning bender they’re all SOOO apologetic and promise to do better in the coming week BUT

they never use the chore chart even after multiple meetings about how we’re all gonna be better about using the chore chart

[holeposts]

I do think people have a point when they say that adults should be able to afford their own apartment, but I also tend to think there is nothing inherently wrong with having to have roommates as an adult, particularly in very dense urban areas. One bedroom apartments are not an incredibly efficient use of space and with the number of single childless people consistently on the rise, I think it's unrealistic to expect the supply of single-occupancy units to keep up with demand (and yes the rise of single childless people is up partially because of the lack of space but that is far from the only factor and the trend is likely to continue even in a world with an abundance of housing). There's no question that housing prices are out of control and it's unfortunate that people are having to put parts of their lives on hold, such as having a family, or have to live in situations that are severely uncomfortable/don't meet their needs (i.e. sensory needs or anything else that might come up I'm sure there are plenty of such scenarios) due to lack of adequate housing, and I completely acknowledge that. On the other hand, people who live with roommages are still housed. They have safe and stable shelter, and isn't that the fundamentally most important thing? To share housing with people who are not part of your nuclear family is not a travesty, it's actually pretty normal and a perfectly logical thing to do when you live in a city where space is precious. I have a hard time with the idea that making sure every adult can live in their very own entirely private space is a priority - the concept feels very fundamentally capitalist and American in nature if I'm being honest.

In my vision of cities in the Good Future, single-occupany or single-family units are attainable by anyone who really wants/needs one, but it's culturally very normalized and perhaps even expected to live with roommates for as long as it makes sense just to save money and save space for those who need it more. To make up for the relative lack of space in those shared private dwellings, there are lots of accessible public spaces where you can go and do all the stuff that you might not have room for in your apartment, like makerspaces and meeting places and music rehearsal spaces and so on - much more efficient than everyone having excess private space that is only for them to use, and healthier than staying in your private space alone all the time.

This pretty much only applies to dense areas. Living in a rural or outskirts area is a totally different story. I'm just trying to imagine a world where in a city of say a million people, every single adult/couple/whatever has their very own personal adequately sized space, and I'm coming up empty. Yes, abolishing real estate speculation and aggressively building upwards will go a tremendous way towards expanding the housing supply, but I feel skeptical that even that would be enough. And even if it is enough, is it really necessary? Yes roommates can be awful, but most of the time they're just fine, and I think the problem of nightmare roommates would be greatly reduced in a world with both a robust "roommates culture" where living space etiquette is very strong and well-known, as well as where housing is more abundant and it's relatively easy to move if your situation is really giving you hell. And a world where it's common for people to share space will require a lot less construction and development which is still very resource-intensive even when it's as efficient as possible, not to mention the energy needed to heat/cool/maintain each individual unit. Ok the end.